Flashes From The Past
by Tuppence
Summary: So there was a past - THE past - in Cowboy Bebop. A past that centred around Vicious and Julia and Spike. And I always wondered about this past...and here is the result of that wondering. The start of random one-shots focused on THE past... “Julia?" ...


**Disclaimer****:** I don't own Cowboy Bebop (unfortunately).

**Author's Note****:** So, I always wondered about the past – as in, THE past – everything that happened around Julia and Vicious and Spike. The problem was, everything always seemed to focus on Spike and Julia and their love. And it always seemed to forget the friendship that Vicious had with Spike. So...here are some random one-shots that focus on them. Any and every relationship they had back then (platonic and non-platonic ones). I hope you like it. And please review!

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**Flashes From The Past**

"Julia?"

"Mmm...?" She mumbled into his shoulder, revelling in the contact that her bare skin made with his.

"I love you." The words were out of his mouth before he could consider whether he should say it or not. But then, he'd always been impulsive and he knew thinking about it wouldn't have changed anything. He'd still have done whatever the moment told him to do, whatever felt right.

After a few minutes of silence, he resisted the urge to repeat her name, check that she had heard him but her shallow breathing and her unnaturally stiff body already told him that she had. He hated this. The waiting...

She opened her mouth and closed it again, without having uttered anything. At this point, she really had no idea what she wanted to say. Her mind seemed blank; there was the buzzing in her head, the kind she got when she'd drunk too much or nearly been killed. And this still didn't help her because she still had no idea what to say.

She thought about it and thought about it, her mind fluctuating between the blankness that enveloped it sometimes, and the buzzing of random words swirling around in her mind, and by the time she opened her mouth to say something, finally, the chest under her chin was rising and falling steadily, a snore coming through once or twice. He was asleep.

_He_ was asleep.

He was _asleep_?!

She seethed in silence, fuming over the fact that, after having sex that was... not bland in the least, for lack of a better phrasing, he had then dropped so unexpected a bomb on her AND then decided to fall asleep! What kind of a man did that? Although he wasn't really a man, as she so often reminded him. Moron, yes. Idiot, most times. A fool, frequently. But she told him, time and again, he wasn't really a man. It wasn't a lie. Just...completely the opposite of the truth.

But what the hell was she going to do? She'd decided to say something, but all that something had been was to call out his name and hope that he would talk first. She didn't have the least clue of what to say. And when she raised her head to look at him, to murmur his name, she found his eyes shut tight, his mouth open slightly and an occasional soft snore reaching her ears.

She resisted the urge to hit him across the face. She wanted to do it so badly and she was really, genuinely proud that she had the self-control to not do it. But that didn't mean that she wasn't pissed off. Instead of settling her head onto his chest again, she grabbed some of the duvet and turned her back purposely towards him, inching herself away from his body and towards the edge of the bed. Out of sheer spite, she also dragged some of the duvet off of his body.

And he remained asleep. She seethed impotently at the wall of the room, unable to believe that men could be so inept, even when asleep. Part of her knew that in real life, when a loved one moved away, their arms didn't automatically move to hold them. Part of her also knew that men were prone to falling asleep after exhaustive activities...and tonight had been exhaustive, she had to admit, with a secret smile. But whatever the hell happened to love and romance? Whatever happened to proclaiming love using a radio outside the window (although that would be incredibly embarrassing and they weren't teenage lovers)? Or how about a beautiful message written in the sky (even if it was expensive and a bit ostentatious)? Or...but it didn't matter. The emotionally retarded, socially inept idiot she'd decided to date had decided to declare his love for the first time after having sex, without any warning or romantic gestures. What the hell was wrong with her taste in men?

It was with these thoughts that she fell asleep. When she woke up in the morning, the sun was already streaming in through the window, falling slightly on her face, which was, most irritatingly, currently cuddled against his chest. This was NOT what she had wanted. This was not even remotely close to what she had wanted. She'd wanted him to become aware of how angry she was and cuddling him in her sleep was not the best illustration of aforementioned anger!

Not to mention it was insulting that she could express her affection in her sleep but he apparently couldn't...

She could feel her lips turning down into a pout, an irritable furrow already present in her brow when his voice broke her of her reverie and brought her eyes to his face.

"Morning." All he had said was one single word, but that word was a verbal caress. And it had the ability to cause her heart to start beating just a bit faster and a bit louder but she was damned if she would let him off that easily. Without uttering a word (partially because she still had no idea what to say), she jerked herself away from him without sparing him a glance, letting him stare at her bare back as much as he wanted as her hands hunted on the floor for her clothes.

"Julia...?" He said, almost hesitantly. There was apology in his voice but there was amusement too, and Julia did not like that at all. She hadn't replied to him or said anything so how could he be so amused?

And what could she say? She didn't know so she continued her search for clothes, grabbing them and putting them next to her on the bed.

"Julia..." He repeated, his words a caress again. The apology and amusement had gone but she didn't turn around and he continued to stare at her in silence until... "I love you..."

It was said. Loud and clear, sober and in the morning light, with no aftermaths of sex to cloud the words or give them a different meaning, he's told her he loved her.

And she hated it. Against her will, her face puckered up and, very unwillingly, she spoke in a choked voice, "I love you too. Bastard."

She heard him move and then felt his arms circle her waist, a lot gentler than was his wont. She felt him place chaste kisses on her shoulders, up her neck, in her hair, and she heard him mumble an almost inaudible "I know..."

They weren't supposed to do this. This had never been part of the plan. It was just physical, a release of all the stress they were under whilst still playing with fire. It had been perfect and love had never been a part of it.

Until it had become a part of it. Until they'd fallen in love without realising (or rather, without _her_ realising). This was going to screw everything up. Destroy everything they cared about, everything that was their world.

But she still turned to face him, because what else could she do? She loved him; she'd known it, even as she'd denied it to herself. And she raised her blue eyes, a little water, catching a quick glimpse of his grey eyes before their lips made contact and that certain something within her stirred. "Vicious," She murmured, her words a caress as she broke the kiss.

"Hmm..." was his distracted response.

"You know you're gonna be whipped, right?" And as she heard him chuckle, she thought that maybe, just maybe, everything wouldn't be ruined.


End file.
